


A Good Dream

by Rhaeluna



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Beast Mode Sex, Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, City of Yharnam, Crossover, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Gothic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Meet-Cute, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Rough Sex, Scratching, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strip Tease, Trans!Elsa, Unrelated Anna/Elsa (Disney), Werewolves, monster fucking, trans!Anna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 05:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaeluna/pseuds/Rhaeluna
Summary: Hunter Anna is seduced by giant werewolf pope Vicar Elsa.





	A Good Dream

**Author's Note:**

> [2019 Edit: This fic was conceptualized and written before Frozen 2 came out, just FYI.]

A paleblood moon hung like a ripe apple over the gothic spires of Yharnam. Distant screams of beasts and men carried on the wind. Anna sprinted up long steps to the Grand Cathedral, weapons armed and sweat on her brow. Hunting. Her mind grated like saws. 

Two gaunt churchmen in black robes snarled at her as she closed in on the double doors. Guarding the Cathedral. Praying, grieving statues flanked their sides. The smell of iron thickened. 

The first pale, hollow-eyed creature swung its wooden cross at Anna like a battleaxe. Moans escaped the abyss of its throat. Anna dove for the ground, skidding on the worn leather of her coat. The cross whiffed. She tore upward in a spiral, her saw cleaver rending flesh like a rusted scalpel shearing muscle. The churchman went down with a thud.

By the time Anna regained her bearings the second grotesquerie was already mid-swing. Its cross caught her in the side. Crack. Blood burst from her like a popped bubble. It began a second swing. Fury. Not dying yet. The Hunter grabbed her assailant by the cloak and raised her pistol, firing before the killing blow could connect. The churchman staggered from the bullet impact. Anna’s fist entered the being’s chest and clenched its clammy, inhuman heart. With a spurt it came loose and the churchman was dead, a companion to its friend lying upon the step.

A cold wind blew. Anna dropped the heart on the cobble and sighed. Her muscles ached. Her clothes were stiff with dried vitae. Hurt. Her wound pulsed and the corners of her vision darkened. From Anna’s satchel she retrieved a blood vial and injected herself, the healing power of the old blood filling her veins and revitalizing her sickly spirit. Relief.

The mad city consumed her in small pieces. The creatures almost got her. Anna’s head swirled with memories of a thousand deaths, a thousand climbs upon similar stairs, a thousand ways to cease to be. Shards. She’d never made it to the Grand Cathedral before. The dream held her, immortal, until she completed her unknowable task. What did the old man want? The doll? Their words were cryptic yet in their own way they guided her, by hints and ghostly lanterns, pulling her scouring rage down every corner of the blighted city. The blood ran so thick the very cobble had long been dyed red. 

She’d come to Yharnam to escape disease. A plague upon her northern land, black splotches and yellow vomit in every village home. She’d nearly succumbed when she decided to take a chance. Yharnam, the city of blood. A legend, a fountain. Blood that could cure any disease, by the grace of the church and its gods.

She’d scrabbled. She’d clawed. It worked. Upon the first injection of the strange, otherworldly blood Anna’s disease receded, her strength born again. Brilliance. A dying star. It was blood unlike any mortal blood she’d ever known. She cried in relief upon the creaking floorboards of that withered, forgotten clinic. 

Then she’d died. A beast, quadrupedal and low to the ground, flayed her stomach with a quick slash and her entrails flooded out. Release.

Death should have brought comfort. When Anna awoke in that accursed Hunter’s Dream very much alive she knew then that no gift comes without a cost. So she was bound. For a purpose she did not yet understand, she was bound. To slay beasts, demons, men, she was bound. Bound, bound, and drawn ever forward in the search of salvation. The gods who had given the church its blood, surely they could save her. Surely someone could save her. Anyone. Her heart burned with the fatigue of a neverending waking and a sleep that brought only blood. 

So Anna went. She’d met a man named Gilbert, sickly from the beast plague and nearing his transformation into a monstrosity. Mindless, feral. “Deep within the Cathedral Ward is the old grand cathedral,” he’d said between wheezing rasps, “the birthplace of the Healing Church’s special blood, or so they say.” 

She’d met a Hunter named Eileen, a crow from a foreign land snipping away the lives of Hunters gone mad. “It’s in the blood,” she said, “the scourge of beasts is in the blood.” No gift without a cost. The arrogance of a holy institution. Mad, mad all of them. 

All voiced, haunted or hunted or dead, beckoned Anna to the Grand Cathedral. The home of the church, the altar of the Choir. After more deaths than she could count, she’d made it.

Anna wiped slick red from her cleaver, wet and primal. She stepped over the churchmen and strode up to the triple-high Cathedral doors. Answers. In here, surely, there must be answers. Hope? No, scarcely anything left of hope, but perhaps insight. Yes, insight. Seek Paleblood, seek Paleblood. 

With a strength she’d only felt after imbuing Yharnam’s sweet succor, Anna the Hunter heaved open the stone Cathedral doors. She ascended another flight of stairs, forests of incense on either side. Statues of many-legged gods watched her pass, unreadable. Too many eyes. Just before she reached the top the distinct melody of prayer caught her ear. Another enemy. She affirmed that her weapons were still in her hands; that she even still had hands at all.

The stairway opened into a vast, vaulted chamber. Great windows lined the walls. A tabernacle of gold and grit rose up towards the ceiling at the back. Barrier. Anna’s mind writhed to look upon it. She blinked twice. Mad, spiraling patterns careened along the floor towards the circular center of the chamber where a lone, shrouded white figure kneeled.

The figure prayed alone. “Remain wary of the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young. Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented. Seek the old blood. Let us pray, let us wish; to partake in communion. Let us partake in communion and feast upon the old blood."

Anna gripped her weapons and growled. Answers. Beasts. Which one, which one? Her steps echoed as she approached. More dead ends? More lost souls? Ever forward.

The figure quieted and stood upon the Hunter’s approach. They moved eerily, like a mannequin wearing skin that didn’t quite fit. What’s hiding? Anna stopped a few meters away and looked into their face. Ice white, with crystal blue eyes and brilliant blonde hair in a long, spiraling braid falling from their shoulder. Beautiful. Anna sucked in breath. At the figure’s feet sat an ornate goblet, empty. A smear of red dribbled from their mouth.

“If you have come for communion,” the figure said, “you are too late.” They glanced at Anna’s weapons, but didn’t appear alarmed. Still a threat. A slithering shook through them like an earthquake under the skin. “A shame, you smell nice.” A blush. Blood in so many places.

Anna bared her fangs. “Who are you?”

“Me?” The figure appeared as if in a daze. “I am Elsa, Lady Vicar of this noble and just Healing Church.” Elsa’s head lolled back. “Our blood saves people but so few came to communion this day, so few…”

Mad. All mad everywhere you go. Even the head of the church, of those responsible. The Hunter bristled like a ravenous dog. “The dream.” Anna growled and stepped forward. The Vicar appeared nonplussed. “Is it your doing? How do I escape it?”

“Dream?” Elsa frowned. “I know nothing of dreams, perhaps you ought to ask Maria. Or Lawrence.” Clarity flashed through her eyes for a fleeting moment. “Ah, Lawrence.” She looked about to weep. “Poor, poor man. He tried so hard to save Gehrman.”

Ravings. Anna moved closer, predatory. “Your church did this.” The scourge. “Why? Where did you get your blood?” Anna whipped open her saw cleaver with a clang and pointed the sharp end towards Elsa.

The Vicar’s pupils darkened at the sight. Her tongue traced her lips. Hunger. “Oh, how violent. Come, weary Hunter, please join me, for there is still time for communion yet. Let us share in blood and flesh together as Yharnamites of yesterday used to.” Anna heard lust. Her legs trembled. Beating blood, churning red.

“Answer me, damn you!”

The Vicar frowned and for all the world appeared genuinely sad. It puzzled Anna. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t been Vicar terribly long.” She forced a smile. “But if you partake you will find salvation; the gods will it. Please.”

Puzzles every which way. Anna’s answers were not here. Not in the Grand Cathedral, the place where answers ought to be. She lowered her blade and cursed under her breath. A glance around. No lantern. Perhaps she’d gone the wrong way. Perhaps there was no right way, just spirals of corkscrewing streets and aqueducts of simmering bile repeating indefinitely upon each other. Lamps and streets. A nightmare. 

Despair coalesced within like tar. Anna felt the urge to slit her own throat with her rusty blade. Free. It hadn’t done any good before, but maybe it was worth a second try. She licked her lips and tasted salt. How long had she been trapped by the dream? Unable to die? One was the same as a thousand. 

A hand gripped Anna’s wrist and she startled. It was the Vicar. There was no one else. In a previous life Anna might have squeaked and rattled an onslaught of apologies for her dour mood, but instead her instincts reacted in an instant. A Hunter must hunt. She roared and lashed out with her saw, cutting Vicar Elsa clean across the chest.

She dropped to her knees. Anna heaved in breath, her hands shaking. “Uncouth,” Elsa rasped, “and rude. I’m sorry if I startle you.” She continued to speak, but no more words left Elsa’s lungs. Snarling, ripping.

The Vicar’s body trembled and split. Anna darted back, her gun and blade at the ready. In a splatter of wet Elsa’s body burst from within. The old blood splattered the statues of the gods adorning the Cathedral walls. Transcendental. Where the willowy head of the Healing Church once stood now staggered a great beast, white of fur and adorned in bandages. The remains of Elsa’s cloaks masked her eyes. Her head was not unlike a wolf’s heavy with antlers scraping air. Mud and blood and water. Great hands slammed the ground and Elsa howled into the long night. 

Anna’s back arched and the hairs on her back rippled. Just like Gascoigne. This, Anna knew. Hunt. Hunt, hunt, hunt. She dropped to the floor and burst forward, her heart hammering like a gatling gun. Her cleaver sang in a great arc, slicing through the flesh of the Vicar’s outstretched hand. Elsa snarled in pain and Anna prepared for retaliation with the raising of her pistol. Muscle memory. 

It never came. The dig of claws, the reaving of tooth. Anna blinked. Elsa, now easily four times Anna’s size, had not struck back. She could kill her easily. The Vicar leaned back on her great pawed haunches and began to gently lick the rough tear in her hand.

The scent of blood felt heavy like syrup. Anna sweat. Her gun trembled. Pregnant silence crept into the Grand Cathedral for the first time in many a moon. When Elsa finished licking her wound she looked up at Anna and seemed to frown. Her teeth and fur made it hard to tell. 

“You,” Anna said, “why are you not mad? Why do you not strike me?” All beasts kill. 

Elsa shook her snout and a low growl left her lips.

“You--what, you don’t want to? You, a monster?” Another shake of the snout, and the Vicar pointed towards the tabernacle with a long, canid claw. Communion. Anna was unable to stop the unhinged laughter that escaped her then. “Impossible! No, this is a trick. You’ll kill me and I’ll be back in the dream!” Her gun hadn’t wavered. 

Elsa shook her snout twice more then clasped her thin-fingered hands together in prayer. A soft golden glow emanated from her fur and within seconds the wound upon her hand was no more. A miracle. “Ludicrous! The blood made you a beast, you have beastly urges!” Anna said, “What do you want if not carnage?” 

With a snort the Vicar rolled onto her back with a thundering boom. The floor shook under Anna’s feet. Elsa stretched out like a lazy old dog and exposed the soft-looking white fur of her stomach. Anna, covered in blood, pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d truly lost it. Beasts appeared as friends, friends appeared as beasts. 

She lowered her pistol. “I don’t believe it.”

Elsa appeared sheepish and wriggled, scratching her back against the Cathedral tile. No answers. No resolution.

“So do I rub your stomach as if you were a lady’s terrier?” The Vicar stretched her arms out with a yawn and scraped the Cathedral walls, leaving deep gouges in the sculpted stone. When she’d finished she turned again to the Hunter and nodded her big wolfy head. Friendship? No.

How long had it been since Anna had a friend who did not kill her when she accidentally struck them? Beasts, all. How long since she’d seen a dog who didn’t tear the meat from her calves? The Vicar’s selfless kindness, even as a beast, nearly brought Anna to tears. Her eyes got so far as to water. No, don’t hope. It’s a trick! But she’d already begun wishing, longing. A nightmare without end and no one to share in her sorrow. She’d had Gilbert, but Gilbert was far. She’d had Eileen, but Eileen flew her last upon the blades of Henryk. Anna was alone. Alone and growing madder all the time. 

The Hunter holstered her pistol and kept it close, just to be safe. It wasn’t like she could truly die. “Very well.” The dream’s cryptic whispers could wait.

Anna took careful steps towards the lumbering beast before her. Elsa watched her, patient. When Anna arrived without the dismemberment of either party she took a moment to watch the rise and low falling of Elsa’s beastly lungs. Docile. Welcoming. “This is absurd.” Anna began scratching the first rough, white fur she could find. A delighted whine escaped Elsa’s toothy jaws. Bemused, Anna scratched harder. She was rewarded with a tapping beast leg.

Anna smiled. How long had it been? Elsa growled and a hand nabbed Anna by the waist. Doom. Before she could panic she’d been dropped onto the Vicar’s stomach where she bounced as if on a mighty drum. She checked herself for wounds. Finding herself once again unscathed, Anna shot the beast a glare. “I could have killed you just then. Why did you do that?”

Elsa looked sheepish again, or as much as one could through a wolf’s face, and bucked her great hips slightly. Anna held tight to her fur to avoid being jostled. “What does that mean?” Some beasts could still speak, why not the Vicar? Anna had to be in a dream. Never woke up.

Elsa pointed a long claw between her furry thighs. Anna glanced back and stilled. The Vicar’s lumbering, warm sex was prodding the bottom of her shoe with its tip. 

“Oh.” The blood and the flesh. Anna was puzzled to find that disgust was not her first reaction. “Is this what you meant by communion?” Elsa nodded. “There’s no way that will fit, beastie.” The Vicar whimpered and Anna threw her a look. “Is this your primal urge? Not lustful with blood but horny for flesh? What kind of monster are you?” Anna ruminated upon the chafe of her skin under her bloodsoaked leather clothes. Her face tingled with flush. “Do you truly desire me, and wish me no harm?” She asked in a quiet voice. Her hard-won instincts screamed at her in fury. It was a trick. She’d been deceived, disemboweled, lied to. Died. But this strange monster showed her kindness, an angelic dog once human, and the allure of compassion was far more intoxicating to Anna than any blood. So long she’d been killing and killed. To be held was an ancient memory woken anew.

The Vicar hefted a long, bony finger and brushed Anna’s cheek with the rough flesh underneath. A smile? Anna couldn’t say. Affirmation. There was love in the gesture, and in the moment Anna would have done anything for Elsa.

“Very well, beast. A welcome diversion.” Warmth, comfort. If she did die, the dream would go on. She would go on undying, for who knew how long. Caged and bloody.

Anna tossed off her hat. Elsa’s chest purred with interest. Scrambling through fur the Hunter turned herself around and came face to face with the beast’s lust. The Vicar rumbled and stroked a gentle claw along Anna’s spine. Her sex was smooth and pink, growing from a tuft of white hair hidden by bandages. The soft tip dribbled with glistening wet.

“Good lord,” Anna muttered. She had been right: it would never fit. The length of it stretched from Anna’s groin to her cranium, heavy and swollen. Thankfully, penetration needn’t be mandatory for a pleasant encounter. The Hunter reached out and drew a gloved hand over the ripe skin of the monster she found herself seducing. Madness, she’d lost it all now.

Elsa shuddered and purring reverberated in her chest. The heavy vibrations sent a tingling between Anna’s legs and she felt her own pleasure swell. Sweat dribbled from her. The Vicar drew a claw gently across Anna’s breasts and tugged at the fabric. Magnificent. Her thighs quivered.

A scream of pain echoed into the Cathedral from the city streets below. Death and beasts. Anna’s blood felt afire. She turned on quivering legs back to face Elsa’s shrouded eyes. “Oh, you want me nude, do you?” Elsa nodded with a wolfy grin. How could she see through the blindfold? Her tongue stuck out and she panted like a common mutt. Adoration sizzled within Anna’s loins. What kind of monster was she, becoming aroused at such a devilish sight? “You lewd creature.”

Doing her best impression of a strip tease, Anna unclasped her longcoat and undid her vest. Her belts came away and her gloves came off, her skin underneath worn and tired. Elsa rumbled as the Hunter slid out of her pants and boots to reveal meager underwear. The monster tugged at the waistband with a claw and tore away the fabric. A moment later Anna was naked, her tools scattered across the floor, trembling atop the lumbering thing she suddenly wished to call her friend. The Hunter scowled, trying to look tough. She was swollen and wet from her predicament, utterly vulnerable amidst the claws of what ought to have been a sworn enemy. Trust. With a gruff laugh Elsa lifted Anna and cradled her in a single massive hand. “Careful, beast.” The pad of Elsa’s thumb settled against Anna’s breast and began to knead. She burned and writhed, joyous. Too long. 

“Ah, you’re too kind, monster.” Elsa’s other hand found Anna’s groin and with a gentle push began to stroke her hardness against her thumb. She leaked onto the Vicar’s rough skin. Like riding a whale. The purring below, the stroking above. Anna felt as if she might burst. She wished herself large enough to take Elsa’s member, or the Vicar small enough that they might join. Wishing, wishing. Another dream. Tears bubbled in her eyes. She yearned for the closeness, the humanity of it. 

More screams from the outside. A pale moon watching, a great eye in the cosmos. Blood and sweat and incense. When Anna felt her climax build she pushed back, writhing against the Vicar’s grip. Elsa released her and cocked her heavy head. “Not yet,” Anna said, “I want to come when you do.” 

Elsa perked up and clapped her large hands together in mirth. The sound echoed like a slap. How many tons did she weigh? How easily could Anna be squashed? The Hunter crawled across Elsa’s mottled fur to the apex of her legs. She made sure she could see the Vicar’s face as she pressed her torso flush against her thickness. Fire. Elsa’s head lolled back, a low howl escaping her jaws. Anna smirked. Her heart thumped with good blood. 

She reached up and slid a hand over the beast’s opening, wetting herself in Elsa’s slick. She drew hands down their pulsating sides, caressing roughly. Hard and wet. She squeezed her shoulders and thighs. Elsa yelped. The Hunter growled. Pride. She ground her torso against Elsa’s length, her entire body becoming like a sleeve. She wrapped her arms around her, peppered her with kisses, seared with heat as her own sex rubbed against Elsa’s. Kindness. 

The Vicar bucked and Anna was nearly thrown into the air. “Are you close, fiend?” Anna asked between gasps. Elsa nodded, her great claws tearing rivulets into the smooth Cathedral floor. “There’s a good beastie. Come for me; come and share with me communion.”

Anna squeezed with every ounce of strength she had. Her small teeth bit into Elsa’s sex and held. She gripped tight. Stability. Pleasure. Beastial. Elsa howled, trembling, her body slammed into the ground and shook the Cathedral walls. Dust fell from the ceiling like snow. Her hips jolted. Great rivulets erupted from the Vicar, wet and thick and smelling of monster, and fell upon Anna in splashes. The Hunter peaked. Raw, trembling, she cried out. Her own ejaculate was soft and clear against her beastial lover’s. She saw echoes of the dream, a thousand bloody souls torn asunder within the eyes of her own mind. The nightmares churned amongst the waking.

When it was done, Anna collapsed upon the great purring belly of the Vicar Elsa. She was sticky with sweat and sex. Release. Fur clung to her skin. A shaking, pleased hand cradled Anna and lifted her into the air. She was too spent to react. Elsa lowered Anna near her mouth. This is it, a distant Anna thought. Pleasure before death. Before betrayal.

To her continued shock, Elsa’s tongue slid from between her jaws and licked Anna’s cheek with love. “Hmm.” The beast stroked her head as if in lullaby. “I think I’ve grown fond of you, monster.” A rumbled laugh rocked the floor. Smiling, the Hunter relaxed against her better judgment. Trust. Affection. So long forgotten. She buried her hands in Elsa’s thick fur and nestled in for sleep.

A good dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you v kindly to [Cani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanITellUSmThin) for the beta!
> 
> Submitted as part of the August 2019 fanfic writing contest on [the Elsanna-Shenanigans Tumblr.](https://elsanna-shenanigans.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [See the full results here.](https://elsanna-shenanigans.tumblr.com/post/187498787192/august-2019-voting-results)


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